


Clunk!

by MissTeaVee



Series: Our Survival is our Strength [5]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Gen, Humor, kids being kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:14:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26396233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissTeaVee/pseuds/MissTeaVee
Summary: The Mandalorian returns from his work
Series: Our Survival is our Strength [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1707184
Comments: 16
Kudos: 114





	Clunk!

The Mandalorian slipped silently through the curtain and descended the stone steps into the darkness. Stepping around a corner, he paused only long enough to nod at the other armored warrior who leaned just beside the doorway, prepared to shoot any trespasser who might enter their Covert. The other nodded back, head inclining in polite greeting.

Neither bothered to speak.

He moved down the central hallway of the Covert, exchanging nods with the warriors who acknowledged his return, but no one tried to hold him up; they all knew where he was headed. Though it hadn’t shifted position in years, he still sought out the great Mythosaur skull down the hall as he aimed for the doorway that it marked.

As he moved, a pair of children charged down the hall in his direction. He slowed up, thinking they would pass him by, heading for a more familiar adult, but instead they stopped in front of him, and obligingly, he halted his progress. A Mandalorian child was rarely denied their desire for attention. They were both covered today, their training helmets properly in place, and meticulously clean. He smiled internally at the sight; two future Mandalorians, already confident and proud.

“ _Beroya_!” squealed the shorter. He thought it was Ruusaan’s son.

“You cannot pass,” said the taller, crossing her arms. The bounty hunter cocked his head slowly, glancing up to another Mandalorian who was sitting at a games table, arrested in the middle of picking a piece to move. The other Mandalorian audibly chuckled, both she and her opponent turning to watch. “Unless you know the password.”

“Ah, I must visit the Forge,” said the bounty hunter, indulging the game for the moment. “But I don’t have a password, I’m afraid.”

“... oh,” said the elder, looking at the younger. The younger shrugged, then the two children looked back at him, and he wondered if they’d expected him to try and come up with something. After a moment’s contemplation, however, it was proved that it didn’t matter. “Well in that case, that makes you an INTRUDER!”

He sidestepped the first bullrush, catching the other and swinging them under his arm like a sack, earning shrieking laughter from both children.

“Oh, you’ll regret that,” came a comment from one of the other Mandalorians. The bounty hunter’s head snapped up at that, and then he heard the many pairs of running feet.

“Get him!”

“We’re comin’ Nkui!”

Din Djarin, sole provider for his Covert, was not a coward. He did not turn and flee.

Something clunked behind him and he glanced over just in time to see the taller of the first two children- Uba Vizsla, of fekking course it was- dropped into a ball behind his legs. And then he was hit in the gut by the force of a crashing speeder. Or maybe just a half dozen three-to-ten-year-old Mandalorian children.

He went down, of course. The impact alone would’ve been enough, but Uba acting as a block had guaranteed he’d go down with his arms flailing. He nearly did a full backwards somersault, landing with his legs in the air, letting out a groan as his back hit the grated floor.

“Get his arms-”

“I got his leg!”

“Hold him down!”

"Death to all treaspassers!"

They were all over him. He flailed a bit, both to make himself feel better and because it was expected, but it didn’t take too long before he was laying perfectly still, another victim claimed by the Foundlings of Mandalore. He could hear a high pitched wheezing coming from under some adult’s helmet, and were he less mature, he might’ve flipped them the bird. As it were, he sighed, long and low.

“Wonderful technique, _adike_ ,” drawled a deep voice. Din sighed again. Vizsla. Great. “You even have all his limbs controlled.”

“They forgot to do something about the flamethrower though,” Commented an amused observer. Din turned his head just enough to try and transmit his glare to Ordo. There was a gasp, and then said _di’kut’s_ daughter was grasping just under the elbow of Din’s flamethrower-equipped arm, preventing him from aiming it.

He sighed again, but didn't move. They _had_ killed him, after all.


End file.
